


Spellbound

by clairefraserloves



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: M/M, Queerlander Prompt Exchange
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-06-05 07:07:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15165293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clairefraserloves/pseuds/clairefraserloves
Summary: Jamie Fraser is looking for peace at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He finds so much more.[...] Sconces shed a dim light, and on the right, a row of windows faced the Great Lake to the south of the castle. A serene half-moon shone over the still water, billowing, silver clouds, and the forests and mountains in the distance.“It’s beautiful.”Not quite as beautiful as the moonlight on John’s face, though. [...]





	1. First Day at School

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BornDifferent](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BornDifferent/gifts).



> My contribution to the LallybrochLibrary's Queerlander Prompt Exchange.
> 
> John's appearance is based on the TV show rather than the books.
> 
> It's been several years since I read the Harry Potter books, so if I make glaring errors, please correct me! 
> 
> And lastly, English is my second language. Feel free to point out mistakes so that I can improve.
> 
> Enjoy!

Jamie Fraser felt pleasantly inebriated. There’d been mulled cider, butterbeer and even whisky to accompany the banquet, and the flasks and carafes in front of him were always refilling themselves.

Overhead, a thousand floating candles bathed the Great Hall in a warm, welcoming light. Even from up here, where the Professors enjoyed their seats of honour, he could hear the excited chatter of the young wizards and witches below. 

His stomach fluttered at the sight of them. _Professor Fraser._ Come tomorrow, he would welcome them to his classroom. In his twenty years as an Auror, he had seen the depths of depravity and evil and conquered even the most dangerous of foes. And yet, the thought of commanding a room of rebellious teenagers had him grimacing - and refilling his tumbler. 

He was a fool, of course. He had wanted this for a long time. Last year, when he’d been recovering at Lallybroch, he’d finally written his application. Not a week later, when he’d been in his father’s study, slaving over a report for the Ministry of Magic, he’d heard his sister running up the steps.

_“Brother! Jamie! Ye’re going to Hogwarts!”_

That night, Jenny had swished and waved her ebony wand until their ancestral home was festooned like it was Hogmanay, and Maggie and Young Ian had prepared an impressive feast together. Soon, the whole place had been a whirlwind of floating whisky flasks and self-playing fiddles, and they’d all celebrated well into the night.

Ian, usually a voice of reason (being the only muggle inhabitant of Lallybroch), had gotten so drunk that he’d tried to stir the punch with Jamie’s redwood wand. Jenny had snatched it back before it could sink to the bottom of the bowl, Ian had blankly, lovingly stared up at her, and Jamie had laughed until his jaw hurt. 

He smiled at the memory, and took another bite of the sinful honey-chocolate cake he’d piled on his plate. He wouldn’t be here without his family, and he knew he’d miss them terribly. Still, he couldn’t wait to teach. 

_Defence Against the Dark Arts._ He’d dedicated his life to it a long time ago. Now, he would be able to share his knowledge and to help his students become the wizards and witches they were meant -

A sudden burst of pain flared up his back, forcing him to close his eyes and breathe slowly. It vanished as soon as it came _(taing do Dhia!)_ , and he took a deep swig of his whisky, calming himself. If Hogwarts brought him a bit of peace, he wouldn’t mind that as well. 

“Mr. Fraser? Are you quite alright?”

Neville Longbottom, Professor of Herbology, was watching him with kind eyes and furrowed brows. 

“Aye! Aye, I am.”

The retort came easy, and yet his voice sounded strangled to his own ears. Longbottom nodded, but still focused on him, not convinced in the slightest. He closed his eyes again and saw Jenny at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, moments before he stepped onto the Hogwarts Express. 

_“For once, ye great wizard dolt, promise me ye’ll take the help ye need. And come Yuletide, ye’ll be back safe and sound at Lallybroch with us. Aye?”_

Aye. He tapped his fingers against his thigh and cleared his throat, then opened his eyes again.

“Actually… I might have to trouble you for some valerian. Or mandrake root. I’m not really sure… Not sure what might help me best.”

The other Professor nodded, thoughtfully.

“You can come to the greenhouses anytime, it would be an honour. My wife actually demanded I get an autograph from you. I said I’d try, but - Oh, look! Our Professor of Potions here might be more useful to you than I am. There goes the autograph.”

Longbottom winked, and bowed his head to the left side, in the general direction of the other end of the table. Somebody was just taking a seat, shaking hands with other Professors. Jamie had been so absorbed in his own thoughts, he hadn’t even registered the vacant seat.

Just when he wanted to face Longbottom again, to tell him he’d be happy (if not a little flustered) to sign that autograph no matter what, the _Professor of Potions_ turned to greet his right neighbour.

He felt like all air had been knocked out of his lungs.

Deep brown hair, slightly wavy, framing his face and falling to his shoulders. Just a bit of scruff. Graceful, delicate bones, but wrapped up in strength. A gentle mouth, smiling kindly. Blue eyes, light, like warm rain above the heather.

He was unspeakably beautiful.

Not taking his eyes away even for a moment, he asked the only thing left in his mind.

“What’s - “

His voice broke, and he tried again, croaking.

“What’s his name?”

“Him? Well, that would be Lord John Grey.”

-

 _Magical_ was one way to describe the food in front of him. 

Again, John Grey cursed himself for being late. This was meant to be savoured. He took the last large bite from his pie, picking up crumbs with his fingers. Headmaster Raymond had already officially dismissed students and Professors alike. Could he get away with tucking some of those peach-lemon muffins in napkins?

He was still contemplating the right spell for the occasion when he noticed somebody walking over to him. 

_Scheiße._

He looked just like he did in the _Daily Prophet_ , caught beaming forever. Only he looked so much better.

He was also wearing a kilt, of all things.

_Scheiße, gottverdammt._

“Professor Grey?”

James Fraser held out his hand to him, his mouth pulled up in that damned half-smile of his. John willed his pulse to slow down, raised his head, and stood up to shake it. Were there still crumbs on his fingers?

“James Fraser, the Auror! It is an honour to finally be able to meet you.”

His hand was larger than his, slightly calloused, warm, and gone way to soon. He watched as Fraser’s smile slowly bloomed and felt his heart helplessly crack wide open. 

“It’s just Jamie, please. John - is that alright? _John_ , would you… Well, would ye mind a little walk?”

 _A walk? As in, together? Now?_

His confusion must have shown, for Jamie continued hurriedly.

“I mean, as we’re the only new Professors? Thought we could explore the castle a bit, maybe see what’s changed, and… Ah well, nevermind. I’m sure ye’re tired from yer journey here.”

His mouth was a thin line as he made to turn around, tapping his fingers against his thigh rapidly.

 _No. No, no, no, no, no._

“But that sounds lovely, I… Sure! I barely had time earlier, I’m not even sure I’d find my own office again!” 

At his spluttering outburst, Fraser laughed, full-throated, _relieved_ , and his breath hitched. He needed to hear that sound again, see those crinkles at the corner of his eyes again. 

God, he needed to _touch_ him again.

“Let’s go, then?”

As if he could say no to that.

-

“Five-year-old Jamie did _what_ to poor Adso?!”

John’s eyes were blown wide, his eyebrows raised almost comically high. Jamie shrugged, smirking.

“I dropped him in the millpond. At the time, it seemed verra important to know if the wee cheetie could swim. He could, by the way, just didna like it at all.”

“Oh God. Well, I hope Hogwarts has no millpond to drop _Adso of Milk II._ into.”

“Never. I feed him more scraps and treats than is good for him, and when he falls asleep on me, I don’t move so much as a finger. To say I spoiled him would be mild.”

John chuckled next to him on the stairs they were ascending, then fell silent, smiling to himself.

_Ah Dhia._

How long had it been? He didn’t want this to end yet. He needed more time to watch, to listen, to _feel_. 

They must have walked for the better part of an hour, maybe even two, but it felt like mere minutes to him. He’d found he still knew this place like the back of his hand, and had shown John all his favourite nooks and crannies: moving stairs, the odd statue, singing ghosts, paintings (much to chatty for his liking), quiet hallways and even quieter classrooms.

Some of them turned out to be John’s favourites, too.

They’d spoken briefly and tentatively of their classes at first, of travelling here, of their time as students and coming back to Hogwarts now, of their quarters (John’s in one of the towers to the south, Jamie’s in Hagrid’s Hut), of the novelty of being Professors. Soon though, Jamie had asked after _more_ , more of John.

So John had told him of growing up in nobility, shared the pain of estrangement from family, and finally the joy of finding a home in the libraries and greenhouses of the wizarding world. Jamie in turn had regaled him with tales from his travels as an Auror, and told him all there was to know about a little estate called Lallybroch, and Jenny, Ian, the bairns. Even Adso. 

He tried to remember when it had ever felt so profound to share his own story, to be known.

When John had shared his, he’d hung on his every word, studying his face while he talked, letting his calm voice soothe him. Every time he’d caught John doing the same, he’d felt colour rise in his cheeks. 

And sometimes, when they stopped talking and their eyes locked in silence, he had to swallow painfully.

When walking up stairs, like now, or turning corners, their arms would brush against each other, or their bodies would touch inadvertently. One time, the tips of their fingers met, just briefly. 

The feeling was like nothing he had ever experienced. Ridiculous, _almost_.

Like a spark, at first. The sudden heat and thrill, the rush to get closer, not turn away, the frantic beating of his heart. The way his throat went dry, his breath would hitch, and sweat would gather in his palms.

Did John feel like that, too?

“Oh, now look at that.”

He had climbed the last, rather narrow steps behind John. John stood aside now, and Jamie saw that they’d emerged in a deserted passageway. Sconces shed a dim light, and on the right, a row of windows faced the Great Lake to the south of the castle. A serene half-moon shone over the still water, billowing, silver clouds, and the forests and mountains in the distance.

“It’s beautiful.”

Not quite as beautiful as the moonlight on John’s face, though. He couldn’t help himself from turning to him, and gasped softly as he saw that John was looking at him, as well. 

And suddenly, he was so very close. His eyes were unreadable, but earnest somehow, infinitely open, and they didn’t waver from his. He felt like maybe time had stopped, completely unravelled under this gaze, and couldn’t stop his eyes from flicking down to John’s lips. 

Over the beating of his heart, he barely registered John’s gasp. He only realised he’d leaned in further when he caught a hint of cedar, woodsmoke, and green things. 

Then, John laid his palm on his chest, and he felt it shaking slightly. He inhaled sharply, and heard John’s heavy breathing. He kept perfectly still, suddenly afraid, and looked down to see the tiny caress of John’s fingers. 

“Jamie, I… Thank you for the evening. I think… My rooms are just around the corner, I believe.”

He resisted the temptation to cover his hand with his own, to tangle his other in his hair, to press John hard against him and feel soft lips and brisk stubble against his mouth. Instead, he simply stepped back. 

“Aye, aye, of course.”

He raised his eyes to John’s again, and saw hope, fear and an unspeakable tenderness in them. His heart leapt. 

John's smile was unsteady, trembling, but it grew as soon as Jamie answered it with one of his own.

“I’ll see ye tomorrow, then?”

John nodded, graced him with a tiny smirk and a bite of his lips, and turned around.

Jamie watched him leaving, dumbstruck, grinning, heart fluttering wildly in his chest, and knew he wasn’t entirely his anymore.


	2. Steak with Ketchup

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys. I'm so sorry it took me so long. Have some horny Professors!
> 
> This is on the short side, I know, but I wanted to have the next chapter on it's own, as that'll be a big one.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy! Feedback would make me very, very happy.

He wasn’t late for dinner this time. He hadn’t been late for any of the meals since that first day, in fact. But still he fought the urge to break into a sprint, dodge a few dallying students, and just be there already. 

_There._

On the dais, next to Jamie. 

When he’d come to breakfast after that first evening, he’d found his seat occupied by Professor Longbottom, who wasn’t only gleefully smirking at him, but outright _winking_. He’d gaped at him for a second, then walked on before he could embarrass himself further. Walked on to see Jamie bashfully smiling at him, offering him the now vacant seat on his left side.

And just like that, the meals served in the Great Hall had simultaneously become John’s biggest fear and greatest pleasure.

-

_“And when it turns red, you have to slice the foxglove and add it carefully. Not all at once, or it’ll clot! Then you need to stir it clockwise slowly, and when it turns orange, it’s finished. Voilà, the Pompion Potion.”_

_Jamie reached for another cream puff, licking the icing off his fingers. He needed to stop looking at that._

_“I really dinna remember that one. And it turns yer head into a pumpkin?”_

_“It does. I’ll admit it’s not the most sensible potion there is, but as the leaves are already turning red and Halloween isn’t that far off… I thought it’d be a good start for the first year.”_

_Jamie nodded and bit into his pastry, licking his lips. He really needed to stop looking at that._

_“And how long will they… be like that?”_

_John reluctantly turned his gaze from Jamie to where he gestured to his four brave Slytherin volunteers, heads still a bit too large, too swollen, and decidedly orange. He coughed._

_“I hope by tomorrow it’ll be gone.”_

_Jamie laughed loudly, but stopped himself before he could attract attention, and reached for his tea instead._

_-_

_“Hand me the tatties, aye?”  
“The what now?” _

_-_

_“John… Ye don’t mean to tell me ye’re eating yer steak with ketchup, are ye?”_

_He couldn’t help but break into a face-splitting grin at Jamie’s horrified expression._

_“Indeed I am. Does that make you uncomfortable?”_

_“A bit, aye.”_

_Jamie’s low chuckle sent bubbling joy through his chest, and he bit his cheek to stop looking like the lovesick fool he was._

_“Wait until you see how I eat the dessert.”_

_-_

_“She did_ what _?!”_

_“Stood up, as bold as ye please, and unarmed me. My wand ended up on one of the cabinets on the other side of the room.”_

_“And what did you_ do _?”_

 _“I laughed, of course. And gave ten points to Ravenclaw. Well, I_ did _ask for the spells they remembered from last year. Clearly, I should have specified to not direct them at me.”_

_Jamie smirked, his eyes full of warmth and pride as he faced him again._

-

John tried and failed to hide his smile as he walked past row after row of chattering students. The food piled on the tables smelled and looked as delicious as always, but he longed for another kind of sustenance. He looked up to where Jamie sat, his mind replaying another memory that sent his heart stuttering.

Last night, Jamie had told him more about his sister Jenny and her husband – and his best friend – Ian. From the way his face lit up, he knew he loved them both very much. John simply hadn’t been able to tear his eyes away. Only when Jamie swallowed did he realise that Jamie had stopped talking, but he hadn’t stopped staring.

Before he’d been able to say or do anything, Jamie had reached out tentatively, not looking into his eyes, lightly stroking the back of his hand with the tips of his fingers. He’d been as good as paralysed, but Jamie had only blinked slowly, and continued with his dinner.

John still felt that touch like fire. He looked up once more, and found Jamie’s gaze on him. He swallowed. 

-

Jamie knew without a doubt that this was where he belonged. Here, in Hogwarts, in these sacred halls that he held so dear. But even more than that, he belonged _here_ – at _his_ side.

One of these days, he needed to thank Longbottom.

With half an ear, he listened to Professor Raymond, beginning to address the students in front of them. All his attention was focused on John, though, pouring them each a goblet of deep red wine.

He’d undone the top button of his shirt, and rolled up his sleeves. His dark, forest green waistcoat fit him rather snugly. Jamie let his eyes wander. The veins in his arms, his elegant fingers, the promise of strength hidden beneath those tidy, impeccable clothes, the warmth in his eyes, the curl of his lips.

_Dhia._

Did his hair seem a bit more tousled today? He wanted to be the reason for that. Wanted to stroke his fingers through it and tousle it even more, cup his jaw, feel that scruff against his skin and– 

“Raymond really is a formidable Headmaster, isn’t he?”

Jamie neatly recovered with a cough, accepting the ornate goblet from John.

“Oh aye. I do love listening to him.”

_Liar._

They clinked glasses, and he took a tentative sip, trying not to think about how much he’d rather taste the wine off John’s mouth, John’s tongue.

“Hmmph. Vin de Bourgogne?”

He swirled the glass in front of him, inhaling deeply. Next to him, John broke into a quick, bright laughter that he wanted to hear again, and again, and again.

“I… I wouldn’t know.”

He’d meant to lean in and laugh with him, but something Raymond said finally caught his attention.

“Last, but not least, our first trip to Hogsmeade for this school year will be tomorrow. Any students of the third year or above may go, provided they can show a signed permit of their parents or a guardian.”

Raymond proceeded to explain the logistics, but his mind was already elsewhere.

Hogsmeade. A whole day with John. He wanted that very much.

“When’s the last time you visited, John?”

His voice was quiet as he questioned him, suddenly serious. John set his glass down and smiled serenely, contemplating his answer. He watched as his fingers curled around the slender stem, idly tracing the golden embellishments. He longed to caress his skin again, like he had yesterday.

“You know, I don’t think I can even remember. Do you want to go?”

“With you?” 

John’s nod came fast, and there was that piercing blue gaze again. The one he couldn’t break, even if he wanted to.

“Anywhere. Always.”

He tried for a lopsided grin, and it should have been a joke, a tease. But it was the simple truth of his heart. He knew it, and John knew it, too, his eyes widening slightly before he could school his features.

_A Dhia, John._

He touched his glass to his own again, and smiled widely, conspiratorially.

“Then don’t forget your permit tomorrow, Professor Fraser.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Pompion Potion](https://harrypotter.fandom.com/wiki/Pompion_Potion)
> 
> The things I've googled for this fic...


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